


Easy

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Angst, Black Character(s), Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Queer Character of Color, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: Letting go is the easiest, and hardest, thing Chiron has ever done.
Relationships: Chiron/Kevin (Moonlight)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another short story I found on my laptop. I cleaned it up but as usual it's un-betaed. Is it as bad as I think it is? Or as sweet as I'd like it to be?

It’s easy. This thing between them. Easy as the air whistling through the palm trees or the sun setting in the west, all fire and warmth and full of life. Easy as every hitched breath that escapes when Kevin brushes a kiss along his earlobe, then his collarbone, then his chest up against his heart. Kevin tells him to let go, let him in, and he does. He always has, more than he ever wanted to. Definitely more than Kevin has ever known. When Kevin’s kiss lands on his lips to lick between them he closes his eyes. But that’s not quite right. It’s more like they drift shut on their own. Can’t help falling low and slow because Kevin has this way of asking a question without saying a word. A way that makes him answer automatically. And he hates it. He does. Hates how open he feels. How desperate and wild in his wanting. Until Kevin kisses him again before pulling him down onto his bed, into his arms. Tasting him, touching him, so sweetly he gets swept away. Burning like the sun only to rise up out of the ashes in the dark, surrounded by Kevin’s moonlight.

It’s too easy yet not easy enough, all that lay hidden within the folds of them. In their bones between each muscle, each tendon and vein holding them together. It’s so fragile, breakable. Unbroken. Kevin smiles when he tries to explain, to say it shouldn’t be this way. Why isn’t he stronger? Why aren’t they? But the words lodge in his throat. No matter how many times he thinks the passage is clear there is only silence. But Kevin, the man he’s homed in on since they were boys, keeps right on smiling. Leans close to his ear, wraps a tender hand around the back of his neck, and whispers, “I know…”

In his nightmares his mama is squinty-eyed, smoky grey, still, before bursting into violent motion, screaming at the top of her lungs. Half the time he doesn’t hear what she's screaming. The pitch is tinny and high like a dog whistle. Other times she doesn’t speak, won’t speak. Not to him. Either way he wakes up sweating, whimpering, heart attempting to beat right out of him. Thankful he learned early on not to drink too much water too late or he'll wake up to the smell of urine as well as fear. But now that he sleeps at Kevin’s apartment more often than not the other man will be there next to him, reminding him that he’s safe, they’re just dreams, they’re not real. (They used to be real, though he keeps that to himself. So real he, all grown up and able to take care of himself, will never feel completely safe.) Kevin scoots closer to tuck him into his side, throw an arm over his waist and twine their legs together like rope, and kiss him soft and unhurried. Breathe for him until he catches his own breath. Hum the same lullabies that put his own son to sleep in his ear. Tell him without hesitation that he loves him. And for a second he will see those chocolate brown eyes, will melt inside, and let himself believe. Because this? Is real too. Maybe more real than anything he’s ever known.


End file.
